the right side of pain

I find myself in the bathtub, water cooling off, wishing there were someone I could talk to. Longing for a somebody to share the deeper aspects of my life with. I have Sir, yes I do, and He is my favorite and there is nothing I cannot tell Him. But I mean… A friend, a commiserator, a person in the lifestyle. Then I remembered – I have a blog where no one knows my day to day. A place where no one can judge me because yeah, they don’t know me, but bigger than that… The people aren’t there to tear me down. They can relate or they cannot. They can offer insight or they can offer solidarity. We aren’t in competition, and I cannot lose. But on the best of days, I can gain so much! 

I missed this. I have missed writing like this, anonymous but somehow my truest self. I stepped back because… Life went sideways. The last day of May, life as I knew it imploded. The months since have been hard. Soul-crushingly hard, but I am actually really thankful. It took all these months to realize that the struggle with our daughter has been the shittiest experience, but also a huge blessing. 

It’s hard to say that. It shouldn’t take the threat of a child’s suicide for a mother to recognize the ways in which she’s failed. But that’s a thing that happened and I am forever changed. 

However… That is the WRONG fucking side of pain. Wrong for her, wrong for me,  wrong for our family, wrong for Sir, wrong for D/s, wrong for life. That is the destructive, sinking, WRONG side of pain.

But there is a RIGHT side of pain. Once you pass that hurdle, you turn a corner, you face the ugly truths, and you come out better… That’s the right side.

Like when… 

Your Sir is raining down blows from the cane, warming you up, steadily increasing the force. 

Maybe you are wiggling, the room is getting too hot to take. Your mind cannot get away from all that shit in your head. You might tell Him you can’t take anymore, that really, seriously you are done. But you don’t safeword. No, not quite to that point, but you might be thinking about it. 

All the while your Sir continues bringing that cane down, telling you what a good girl you are and reminding you that you ARE already taking it. 

And then it happens… That one word, that one strike…  That moment that everything gives over. Your mind blanks on anything but the present, your breathing slows, you take in a shaky breath, and you are there. 

You are in the moment, you are nothing and everything, and you are confident that there is nothing you can’t take. You don’t fight or protest, you still and absorb it all. Each time the cane hits, it is love and desire; the most perfect symphony in all the world. It is overwhelming and it is freeing and you will probably orgasm because it is all just so good. You, Sir, struggle, defeat, victory, orgasm. And when that coveted pain brings you to a higher level of being?? That is magical.

That is the right side of pain. 
Happy weekend everyone. 

~shygirl

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final terms [of endearment]

A little bit ago, an article about the psychology of nicknames (pet names, terms of endearment, etc) popped up in my feed, and of course I read it! I love pet names! Sir has an arsenal of names that He calls me and each makes me feel any number of things, but it all boils down to love.

Then, the other day, I was cleaning out my dresser and read some letters and cards from someone pretty important to me… And noticed the total lack of use of any pet names over the last eight months. It had struck me as odd on my birthday earlier this summer, but I tried not to read too much into and promptly blocked it out. But standing there, rereading months of words? Everything felt a little off.

I went in search of that article I had read, and then many others. Basically, the science says… Pet names are good. And the stoppage of using them, is a bad thing… A growing apart, a separation.

Fuck.

I guess… I am a little relieved… I mean, science and all… for once it’s not only in my head; it’s not just my stupid sensitive feelings. 

Also, I am a little embarrassed… I only stopped using the pet name a few days ago (after this revelation)… and oh god, there was that gift I gave. *hides face in the lopsided shame*

I suppose I already knew this happened, this separation… This sort of “out of sight, out of mind” vibe wafting across the miles. There have been plenty of clues – dwindling conversations and happy habits long abandoned – but a [sappy, hopeful, delusional] part of me thought we’d gotten past the bumps. Maybe this is yet another bump, who am I to say?

I’m not burning bridges or giving up, just living in the truth of the situation. I’m going to take it day by day, interaction by less-frequent-interaction. I will not give more than I get. Perhaps that will be the downfall, or I suppose things could pick back up. All I know is: I just can’t carry it like I used to.

Time will tell.

This isn’t a sad post, as much as it’s an “as-is” post. Terms of endearment are such a good thing and it’s concerning when they die out.

I am incredibly thankful to be Sir’s little light, kitten, slut, Su-B, shygirl, and on and on… I will simply bask in that warmth and hope not to hear my real name (y’all, that usually means trouble!).

Happy Monday, all you sweetcheeks of blogland!! (see what I did there?) 😀

~shygirl